


Safe Passage

by elcor_thespian



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang, Friendship, Gen, Open to Interpretation, mermaid!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elcor_thespian/pseuds/elcor_thespian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the 2015 Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang.  Featuring Mermaid!Isabela in the unwritten story of how Fenris escaped Danarius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Passage

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to work on. AUs are generally outside my comfort zone, so I enjoyed the challenge. Hopefully you'll also enjoy reading it :)

“Time held me green and dying

Though I sang in my chains like the sea”

-Dylan Thomas

 

 

**The Nocen Sea**

 

Isabela felt she had lived long enough to pass a carefully considered judgment on the world of men. For several centuries she had studied them, first as little more than a fleeting interest, and slowly more and more as true entertainment.  Their self-absorption and propensity for self-destruction was captivating, though it had varied little over time.  As they carved their way through the world it had always been through the lens of their own improvement. Cities rose and fell, heroes vanquished countless villains, and thousands of children grew old and died with their only uniting driving force being the question: “How shall we live on in a world that wants to see us fall?

While Isabela’s own people had their own follies and unacceptable behavior, which had long since driven her from their society, they at least understood the world and their place in it.  A human looked at the sea and saw possibility: a possibility for riches, or excitement, or a new land to conquer. But a mermaid could never look at the ocean; she could only feel it.  It was all consuming and flowed through every aspect of her life: yes, in a literal sense, but it was something more.  A magic that took root in their hearts and formed a bond that benefitted both.  A mermaid could be comforted by the sea, she could be healed by it, protected by it, and even temporarily control it.  A legged sailor could only pray not to be destroyed by it.

Magic was just the same, although those on the land had long forgotten.  Magic was not a gift for the people, nor was it a curse bestowed by their blasted Maker.  It simply was.  You could work in tandem with it, but you did not own it.  You did not decide where it went and what it did, any more than you could with any other living creature.  Although, Isabela reminded her self as she surged toward the surface, in these seas the men had forgotten even that basic principle.

Isabella’s head crested the calm of the water, and her eyes adjusted to the surface light. Even the moonlight stung at first when compared to the inky blackness of the ocean depths.  She pulled her dripping, raven hair away from her face, and took in the silver reflection along the waves, following it to the edge of the dock where it began to form delicate outlines around crates and knot work, as well as docked ships ready to set sail in the morning.

In the distance she began to hear laughter and music.  The myriad of sounds above the water still managed to affect her.  Underneath she could go for days without hearing more than a few schools of fish, or a deep whale’s song.  And lately even these had been blocked by the call of the lyrium.  The call had driven her from her Amaranthine playground to the warmer waters of the Nocen. She had followed the call almost lazily at first, subconsciously even.  It was only within the past week, as she drifted closer to its source, that she picked up speed.  The closer she came, the faster she swam, and at present she had not rested for three days.  Not since she had been able to hear it clearly enough to tell that the lyrium wasn’t simply singing; it was screaming.

The dock itself was unusually silent, and was empty of life save for one silhouette sitting on the pier, his bare feet dangling well above the water.  Isabela coasted to the side of the dock to get a closer view. The lyrium’s song was weaker in the air, everything was, but she could still tell that this man was its source.

“Oi, you there,” she called out, swimming just in to his field of vision.  The elf appeared startled for a fraction of a second, but quickly mastered his composure and looked out for the source of the intrusion. His eyes fell on to Isabela, who gave a small wave at his recognition.

“Are you speaking to me?” He answered in a voice that seemed far too deep for his lanky frame. Isabela wondered how old he was; at first glance he seemed to be in his mid-twenties, but his eyes held a taste of something too dark and sad to fit in the body of one so young. Anyway, it was always hard to tell with mortals.

“No you ponce, I’m talking to the dozens of other broody elves around.” She laughed, and relaxed to float on her back.  If the sight of her bare chest offended him he didn’t show it.  Good, Isabela found modesty to be one of the more tiresome traits of men. 

“Where is everyone any way? Normally a dock of this size would be crowded with men in various states of debauchery.  It’s not often I can get this close”

“I suspect they are all in town, having a last hurrah before our send off tomorrow.”  The boy glanced down at the bottom of his foot and stretched it out, as if something were irritating his sole.  “I wouldn’t know, though.  I’m to stay here.”

Isabela furrowed her brow, “You’re ‘to stay here’?  Why?”

The boy smirked at her; “There is quite a lot of valuable cargo on this ship.  Someone has to stay and guard it.”

Isabela laughed and rolled over on her front to swim a little closer to the elf, “What, just you? I mean that’s a nice sword you have there.”  She nodded to the two-handed weapon on his back, “But do you know to use it?” She winked at him, a gesture he clearly did not expect.

“I apologize, my lady, but I don’t believe I received your name.”  He leaned forward slightly, so that the moonlight caught the shine of his tattoos.  The effect was threatening, but not intimidating.  Not for her at least.

“Because I didn’t give it,” she said dismissively, “Nor did I receive yours.  But I will over look your terrible manners for the answers to a few of my questions.” 

The boy arched his eyebrow, almost as if he were amused by the request, “You have questions for me? And here I was ready to ask what you were doing swimming naked in the harbor.”

Isabella waved him off, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, lover.  Not until I’ve heard the story behind your gorgeous tattoos.”

The humor left from the boy’s face as he sat back and crossed his arms, “Why?”

“Because I’m curious and a wee bit mad.  Now dish.”

“I think not.”

“Seriously? Most men are just dying to impress a lovely lady with stories of their heroic acts and daring deeds. Particularly when she’s got her top off.”

“Well then I suggest you go find one of them.”

Isabella gave a mock pout, and then sank under the water.  Her new companion wasn’t being particularly forthcoming, was he? She reemerged next to the ship, winding her hand around the anchor’s line. 

“Where are you headed off to tomorrow then?”  She gazed up at the ship, which was ornately decorated, clearly meant to show off status more than to be effective in either speed or power.  Still, she could not deny the work was impressive.

“I shall be accompanying a group of Magisters to Seheron, to fight against the Qunari forces there,” he paused briefly, as if considering how much he should reveal to a complete stranger, “They ship off every so often, set some villages on fire, potentially assault some civilians, and then return home having bravely done their duty to their country.  It’s all very patriotic.”  Isabela chuckled at the elf’s dark humor.

“And I take it your master is leading this particular charge?”  The boy bristled and she could tell she had struck a nerve, “Hence taking along his new shiny trinket as his own personal body guard? Show off his handiwork, ensure his survival on this fool’s errand, and subtly intimidate a few of his rivals along the way.  Not a bad plan, for his part.”

“Why are you speaking to me?” The boy’s voice was tense and his fingers dug in to the wood of the dock. The tattoos on his hands started to glow, and the white heat traveled up his arms and along his neck, until his whole body pulsed with moonlight.

Isabela smiled, “I’m a mermaid, love.  I like shiny trinkets.”

The boy shot to his feet, and Isabela laughed, lazily pushing herself forward in the water. “Relax darling, I wouldn’t want you to pull something.  I’ve been given no reason to harm you.  Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact.”  She winked again, and he frowned.  Isabela wondered if he was always quite so gloomy, or if she simply had that effect on him.

“A mermaid? You were summoned here by magic, then?”  He flexed his fingers as if he wished to reach for his sword.  “Did Danarius send for you?”

“Well in a way he certainly did.  Was I correct to assume that he is the one responsible for this?”  She gestured her hand in reference to his body, and he shifted uncomfortably.  She didn’t blame him.  A slave ought not to speak ill of his master.

“Well I have good news. I don’t know what you’ve heard about my kind, but I will share with you some of the basic trivia. For one thing, mermaids bore very easily.  One of the drawbacks of being ageless I’m afraid.  You get to the point where you’ve lived long enough that you’ve seen just about everything and you begin to wonder whether or not anything will ever be interesting ever again.”

The boy folded his arms and frowned again.  “Is this going somewhere?”

“Don’t be cross, I’m trying to give you a compliment.”  Isabela smiled as sweetly as she could muster, and his expression softened slightly, “You see, we get so jaded that when something new does happen out there in the world, particularly a new and magical thing, well we tend to get a bit excited. Frankly love, and I’m sure you’ve tired of hearing this, I’ve never seen anything quite like you before.”

“Was that the compliment?” He asked, shifting the weight on his feet again, “It could use some work.”

“Oh right bundle of laughs you are,” she said, rolling her eyes, “No, you idiot, I’m the compliment. Me, myself.  Isabela.  Nice to meet you.”  She flourished her hand; a real bow was so awkward to complete halfway out of the sea.

“I don’t…” He clearly was confused by the declaration, and she sighed.  She had forgotten how slow mortal men could be.

“As long as you stay on my good side, you’ve got a mermaid at your beck and call.  Which, as I’m sure you don’t understand, is an incredibly useful ally.  I’m more than just a flawless face you know.”

“I’m not sure that I need a…mermaid…at the moment.”  His brow furrowed as a look of concern flashed over Isabela’s face, “My apologies, my lady, I did not wish to offend.  I simply mean that…any battle that I wish to fight, I will do so on my own. I do not need to rely on the charity of others…or the magic of anyone.” 

The last addendum was added with particular emphasis.  To his credit, the boy was trying awfully hard to end their conversation on good terms.  Every child knew how dangerous it was to anger a mermaid, particularly if they meant to travel the sea in the morning and make it to their destination alive.  However, his compliance was unnecessary; when Isabela found something she wanted, she took it.

Isabela shook her head. “So modest.”

“Not modest, my lady. Independent.”

“As much as one can be as a slave.” She added, narrowing her eyes. He grimaced, and Isabela chuckled at his discomfort.

 “Don’t be so serious, you’ll get wrinkles. Now dear, it’s been a lovely chat, but it is getting quite late.  You’ll be of no use in the morning if you don’t get a proper night’s rest.”  
            “But the ship-“ The boy began to protest, and Isabela put up her hand to silence him.

“I think your master will be more than pleased when he checks on his stores in the morning. One small frigate in a wide watery world is more than within my means to protect.  In fact, I should think you could sleep comfortably in all of the nights to come.”  He began to object again, but she quickly silenced him.  “You shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss help, mate. Independence is admirable, but pride can be foolish.  Sleep well, and we shall speak again in Seheron.”

He stepped forward to respond, but she ducked under the waves again before he could form the words. The boy sighed, and sat back down, his body suddenly weary with the lateness of the hour and the magnitude of what had just transpired.  His eyelids began to slide closed, only to shoot open again as Isabela reemerged suddenly.

“What was your name again, beautiful?”

“Fenris.”  He said softly, his heart pounding in shock.

“Really?  Fantastic!  Good night, gorgeous.” 

And she was gone.

 

**The Ventosus Straits**

True to her word, the _Vasilia_ reached the Seheron coastline without incident.  Although Fenris’ crewmates often commented on the disconcerting storms on the horizon, the waters that immediately surrounded them remained calm and clear. Any number of magisters aboard took credit for calming the natural forces and ensuring the cooperation of the winds, and every time it took every ounce of Fenris’ self control to refrain from rolling his eyes.  He knew the mermaid Isabela was solely to thank for their good fortune, although he did not yet know if and when he would have to pay a price for her allegiance.

Meanwhile, Isabela had anchored herself to the hull of the vessel, and was quite enjoying the ride. When she rode in this fashion, she was able to hear the words spoken above deck if she listened quite carefully. In this way she was able to learn much about the passengers (she refused to call these weak willed men ‘sailors’ as if they had truly earned the term) and the land they came from. More intently, she listened for more of Fenris, the elven boy with magic forcibly carved in to his veins.

She learned that he was always as quiet as he had been on the dock the night they met, speaking only when spoken to and always sitting apart from even the other slaves and warriors aboard.  However, when one of his superiors had had too much to drink, or he had identified them as particularly slow, he would carefully slip in sarcasm or a witticism at their expense. She grew quite fond of the strange lad, and remained perfectly content with their arrangement although she could not see him.

When the crew arrived on shore, they quickly made their way inland to make camp.  However, within the hour Fenris was sent to find water for the party, and he stealthily made his way back to the beach.

The island was indeed very beautiful, despite the dangers hidden within the forest. Fenris took his time walking along the sand, knowing that no one would come looking for him.  As he came up to the shore, he paused, wondering if the salt water would irritate the lyrium on his feet.  He had never touched the ocean, as far as he could remember, and certainly not since he had been marked.  Cautiously, he let the tide pool around his toes, and he eased out a contented sigh.  Contrary to his fears, the cool of the salt water felt wonderful, and he wished he could submerge himself entirely.

“I hope you’re not intending to have your men drink salt water, mate.” 

Fenris jumped back, as his eyes snapped open to see Isabela sitting beside him on the shore. She waved playfully, and he struggled to ease his heart back down into his chest.  He was positive she had not been there a moment before.

“Gotcha, didn’t I?”

“No.”  Fenris answered, almost too quickly. For whatever reason he did not want Isabela to feel she had caught him off guard.  “In fact,” he continued as he regained his composure, “I came here to find you.”

“Flatterer.” She said, combing her fingers through her hair, hiding a smile.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said.  Isabela looked up and caught his eye briefly, before he coughed and looked down at his feet. _Poor shy lamb_ , she thought.

She found herself wondering how hard it must be for him to initiate any sort of conversation, particularly when he found himself indebted to the other party. Without thinking, she patted the sand next to her, inviting him to sit next to her on the wet sand. He hesitated only for a moment before accepting, and Isabela could not help but notice how measured his movements were.  He was careful not to rub his skin against the sand in his descent, nor to brush against her. Clearly, whatever the marks did and however they got there, they were dreadfully painful.

“I don’t know why you find me so interesting,” Fenris finally said, drawing Isabela’s attention back to his face, “but I have been mulling over your words since we last spoke. Perhaps I was hasty in my refusal of your help.  After all, I have nothing.  No power, no resources, no connections.  I should not turn away from one such as you who takes pity on me.”

“Hang on there lad. Who ever said anything about pity? I am interested in you, of course, but do not think that I pity you.  You don’t deserve it.”  Isabella picked a shell up, and examined it, before shrugging dismissively and tossing it back to the sea.

“Do I not?” Fenris asked, taking her lead, and picking up another shell and aiming to skip it along the water’s surface.

“Of course not. Tell me honestly: what do these markings of yours do exactly?”  She watched as Fenris’ shell launched through the air and sank in to the sea with a satisfying plop. 

Fenris seemed reluctant at first, but he reached down to the canteen he had been sent with and held it out in front of her.  Isabela arched an eyebrow, and looked at him expectantly.  He reached his other hand out, and on a deep inhale gathered a pulsing light through his fingers, along the curves of his marks. He reached forward, and sent his hand through the canteen, and back out a few times, leaving no mark on either side.

“Well, that’s something.” Isabela said, as the glow faded and Fenris tossed her the canteen. She turned it over in her hands, as if looking for a hole she knew would not be there.

“Well that simply proves my point,” she continued finally, casting the bottle behind her, “Why should I pity one as powerful as you?  What is to stop you from reaching in to Danarius’ chest and ripping out his heart? Why have you not murdered all of these fools and made for bluer seas?”

“It’s not that simple.” Fenris said, chucking another shell in to the ocean.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Danarius owns me, and the marks in my flesh.  I cannot simply leave. Even if I were to some how kill him, a dozen of his men would inevitably over power me.  Even if I were to somehow kill every Tevinter on this island, I would still have nowhere to go and no way to get there. I’m stuck.”

Isabela scoffed, “Well sod that.” She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw Fenris crack a smile before he turned his head away. “Hang Danarius, and hang his men. Literally if you like. You want to leave here a free man? I can make that happen.”

Fenris turned to face her again, and she was oddly moved at how his expression seemed almost reverent. Although he wanted to appear resigned to his fate, it was clear that the hope for freedom had not yet burned out in his heart.  It never did.

“How?” he asked, inching slightly closer.

Isabela traced her finger in the sand, drawing a crude outline of the island.  Within, she drew a complex vein of pools and streams, all leading deeper and deeper in to the forest.  Fenris followed her movements closely with his eyes, trying to memorize each new miniature trench she dug in the beach. Finally, she pointed to the apex of a river, before placing a small pink clamshell there to mark her place.

“There is a cave here that I have found shelter in many times.  If you make your way there I can ensure your safety, and I can promise you a way off of this island, if that is what you choose to do.”  
            Fenris traced the clamshell with his own fingertip, thoughtfully considering how far it stood from his own position on the coast.  His brows furrowed and he looked at the mermaid critically, trying to find a way to voice his doubts.

“How can you promise that I will arrive there safely?  And to safely leave again…should we not look outwards, to the sea?  I see no merit in trespassing in to Qunari territory, where I will most certainly be found and killed.”

“Don’t worry so, my pet. If I say you can do it, you must learn to trust that it is so.”

Fenris shifted uncomfortably, avoiding the creature’s smiling eyes.  “I do not trust easily.  You have nothing to lose should I fail.  This is nothing but a game for you.”

“Ah yes, but I love games. And I hate to lose. That’s enough for me.” Isabela tossed her hair back confidently, but saw after a moment that her words did not seem to comfort her companion.  Carefully, she placed her hand on his shoulder.  He shrinked under her touch, but did not pull away completely. Slowly he adjusted to the weight of her hand, and accepted the gesture before turning to meet her.

“I promise you that no harm will befall you.”  Fenris nodded, and Isabela handed him the clamshell with a twinkle in her eye. “Just move quickly.”

 

**The Venefication Sea**

Like most of the true beauty in this world, men had corrupted Seheron. What Isabela remembered as a lush, tropical paradise had become a war zone.  At night, while she floated on the oceans surface, she could see the orange glow of flames spreading out over the treetops, seeking to destroy the bounty of fruit and wildlife that had once safely called the island home. Even when she closed her eyes, and tried to picture the land as it had been in her youth, the screams of the dying invaded her thoughts and colored the world.  Men had ruined a land that she had once sought to protect, because she had abandoned it.  Men had ruined the world, but could not fight against her now that she had returned.  Not now that they had something she wanted.

            With her eyes closed, and her body exposed to the cool night air as it brushed along the ocean’s surface, Isabela inhaled the sea.  Every new breath grew deeper, until she was full of Seheron.  With every intake she breathed in the island, and when she exhaled she exhaled the coast, and again inhaled the forest.  Her chest swelled with the world she could not see, until the pain became so intense that it forced her to let out the bit of herself that wished could walk the land.   The same part that wished she could protect her friend, and walk beside him. The part of Isabela’s soul that wanted to be with Fenris came out in a mist, until it grew consciousness, and swallowed the earth.

            Isabela’s body fell asleep, but her mind awakened in the mist, collecting the power of the salt spray in the air.  Cracking a smile, she sped towards the beach, seeking out her followers, and hoping that Fenris had not lost his nerve.

            Her fog spread along the beach, towards the tree line, and in to the forest. Zipping through branches, and tumbling over rocks, she soon became a thick curtain that would be impenetrable to the weak sight of humans.  However some eyes more skilled, perhaps the emerald green eyes of a clever Elven boy, may find safe passage through the woods on this night.  Even so, she did not stop until she found the target she sought.

            _Ithamar_

Deep in the woods of Seheron, Ithamar stood tall, immediately abandoning the hunt he had been on for the past hour. His foe could live another day, if his ears were not deceiving him and the whisper on the wind spoke true.

            “My Lady?” he whispered back, his voice cracking with a reverence that was not unlike fear.  Like all Fog Warriors he had grown on the stories of his people, and believed the tales of the Sea Mother, Yema.  She was their protector as long as she was shown loyalty and paid tribute, but she was also a being of great and terrible power, that was to be respected above all else. Ithamar had never dreamed of being one of her chosen.

            Isabela materialized slowly; at first nothing more than a wisp of mist in the night, but soon she gathered form and substance, shifting in to a body that her contact could see and comprehend.  Although still comprised of nothing but fog, the moonlight now bent around the shape of a Qunari woman, seven feet tall and adorned with intricate vitaar across her naked body, and a shaved head to reveal the raised edges of her hornless skull.  Ithamar sank to his knees without question, averting his eyes from his goddesses’ awesome sight.

            _Arise, Ithamar, and hear my need._

            Her voice remained little more than a murmer in the mist, but Ithamar’s knees still shook slightly as he stood.  He lifted his gaze to see the face of Yema bearing down on him, and he swallowed deeply.

            “Great Lady, I am honored that one such as yourself has sought me this night. Please, tell me, what is your will so that I may see it done?”

            Isabela smiled, and stepped towards the warrior, her feet gliding across the island floor without leaving evidence of their passing.

            _Tonight a man will find your tribe. He is not of your kind and will not know your ways, but I ask you show him kindness, and allow him to seek refuge in your ranks.  Do this, and your people will receive my blessing._

Ithamar brought his fist across his chest and bowed deeply.  “Of course, my Lady.  He will find shelter here, until such time as you see fit to release him.”

            Isabella bent to kiss the top of the warrior’s head, which was felt only as a wisp of cool breeze across his painted skin.  When he looked back up, the form had dissipated, and he was alone again in the forest.  With a growing sense of awe and terror, he turned back towards camp at a run.

 

_What a sweetheart_ , Isabella thought.  _Must give him a call sometime if I’m ever in need of a consort in these parts._

           

            Laughing, she turned her attention back towards the magisters’ camp. Although the density of the fog was almost certainly enough to discourage Fenris’ captors, toying with them personally did sound like quite a bit more fun.  Twisting in between tree boughs and through fallen and rotten logs, Isabela eventually found her man.  Four slavers cornered Fenris, each brandishing a particularly lethal looking blade.  His eyes darted between each opponent, carefully considering with one to take first, as they pushed him further back until his spine collided with a tree. Not ever being known for patience, Isabela pulled as much energy as she could in order to force her spectral being towards the man closest to Fenris.  The elf’s eyes widened as he saw what appeared to be a gush of fine mist force its way in to the man’s throat, almost instantly filling his lungs with water.  He drowned within seconds, and fell in a heap at Fenris’ feet.  The other men lurched back in fear, gripping their swords even tighter.

            “Well that was disgusting,” Isabela whispered in to Fenris’ ear.

            “Isabela?” He whispered back, still awestruck at the magic he had just witnessed.

            “Of course, love.  Now, be a dear and dispose of these morons for me.  I can’t wait to see what you can do.” 

Fenris watched as a shine of water droplets appeared on the dead man’s claymore.  His face twisted in to a wide grin as the men before him regained their courage and rushed forward.  In one fluid motion he bent down to retrieve the sword, and brought it upwards, slicing one of the men from groin to shoulder. A spray of blood spewed forth from the man’s neck and christened his companion, distracting him long enough for Fenris to remove his head.   The final man screamed and dropped his blade, sending it clattering to the ground.  Fenris lunged forward and sent a shimmering fist through the man’s throat, squeezing the scream from his vocal chords until his body went limp.  Fenris removed his hand with a flick that sent his foe flying in to a nearby tree, before sinking to the ground with the rest of his fallen brethren. 

His breath came in deep pants, until the blood in his head cleared enough to hear the soft, slow claps, coming from Isabela’s incorporeal form behind him.

“Oh that was marvelous, poppet.  Simply marvelous. See now, I told you that you could do it.”  She let out a laugh, which sounded as an echo in the clearing, brushing past Fenris’ hair and ricocheting in to the trees.  He grinned, and holstered his sword.

“Right, as always, my lady. Although perhaps it would be best if we pressed forward, and did not alert the rest of Tevinter’s army to our location with our celebrating.”

Isabela did not have the energy to form a face at present, but Fenris felt he could still see the mock pout she would have put on after such a statement.

“You never let me have any fun.  Alright then, killer, let’s get you out of here.”  She spun around him, leaving a trail of dense fog in her wake as a trail for Fenris to follow to the Fog Warrior camp.  Fenris shuddered as beads of cold seawater appeared on his skin, soothing him and scaring him in the same touch.

 

They arrived without further incident to the camp, although Isabela decided it was best to not alert the Quanari to her presence.  She insisted it would be easier for Fenris to make friends without people continuously falling to their knees in reverence.   However, Fenris could tell that whatever ritual had brought her consciousness to the island had also drained her energy immensely, and soon after he introduced himself to the Fog Warriors’ commander, he felt Isabela leave. 

Although he knew that he would be safe in the company of his new companions, and although they showed him nothing but the utmost kindness and respect, Fenris felt each day drag on longer and longer until nightfall when he could sneak away to the cave Isabela had drawn for him on the beach.  Every night for the first month he found it empty.  He would sit in the dark, illuminated by the soft blue glow of deep mushrooms for hours before he felt sleep pull at him and demand he return to the warmth of his tent.  But every night he returned, with hope in his heart that Isabela had not abandoned him, and even more so that he would see her again.

On the final night, he waited for little more than twenty minutes before the silence was broken by a familiar shine of black hair breaking the surface of the pool of water at Fenris’ feet.

“Long time no see, gorgeous. Haven’t been pining too hard, I hope?”  Isabela swam forward in the cool water, bringing her body to rest on the edge of the rock where Fenris sat.

“Not at all. Had a nice rest I trust?” Fenris crossed his arms, and appraised his comrade.  She looked completely unchanged from the way he remembered her.  Her long, dark hair was tied back behind an intricately designed blue bandana, and the same sea tarnished gold jewelry clung to her skin. Her full lips were pulled in to a carefree smile, and even the pale light of the cave reflected beautifully in her caramel eyes.  He wanted to lay in to her and find out where she had been hiding for all of this time, but she was already distracted by the pile of treasure that lay at the water’s edge.

“Oooh, what do we have here?” She said, picking up a pair of bejeweled daggers from amongst the bounty of gold and silver.

“Tribute to the Sea Goddess, Yema.  I’m meant to give them to you.  Apparently they think I’m your champion.”

“Oh, well that’s nice. You’d make a good champion.” She twirled the daggers expertly in her hands before holstering them in a belt she had affixed around her waist. “All that slashing in glowing. Careful they don’t make a god out of you as well.”

She turned to face Fenris, whose face was fixed in a deep scowl.  “Aww now, don’t be so salty, my love.  I’m sure you’d make a lovely god.  They could carve your face in to the side of this cave and you could judge them for generations to come.”

“Where were you?”

“Oh here and there. Needed a break from all of this excitement.  I haven’t used this much magic in over a century.  Terribly bad for the complexion.”

Fenris scoffed, and looked away from the mermaid.  Isabella frowned at his tone, and put her hands on her hips.  “I have to say lad, I expected a bit warmer of a welcome.  I have been selflessly working for your freedom for quite a while now.”

“To what end? So that I can amuse you? And when you are finished with me, or when you grow tired of me, can I assume you will just leave me as I am?” Isabela watched in shock as Fenris shot up, sending splashes of water across her face as he angrily pulled his feet from the water.  He began to pace furiously around the edge of the pool.

“I don’t like feeling like my life is out of my hands, Isabela.  Danarius left the island the same day you did, but I don’t believe he is gone for good.  He could have returned at any point, and without you-“ He broke off and whipped his head around to face Isabela.  She felt uncomfortably warm under the intensity of his gaze.  “Without you I don’t know if I could stand against him.”

Fenris stared at Isabela, as if waiting for her to defend herself.  When she remained silent, he growled, and made to leave the cave.

“Wait, Fenris!” He stopped, but did not turn around. 

“Yes?”

“I don’t know…just…wait. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going.  I didn’t think you would care, as long as I came back with good news.”  Isabella pulled herself as far as she could to the edge of the pool, wishing she could pull herself on land and run to her friend. “There’s a trade captain from Rivain that owes me a favor or two, and he agreed to spirit you away on his next voyage.  Should only be a few more days.”

Fenris paused in silence for a few moment, before straightening his posture and continuing out of the cave.

“Then I shall see you in a few days.”

 

Danarius attacked that night.

 

Isabela heard the screams reverberating through the halls of the cave before she heard Fenris’ footsteps running towards her.  She spun around to see him shaking, terrified, and covered in blood. She dropped the gauntlet she had been inspecting from the pile of offerings and felt it sink to the sand below. Fenris did not slow until he too came splashing in, furiously cupping water and throwing it over his face and body until the evidence of his crimes came spilling down in pale pink streams. Isabela reached up instinctively to touch him, and Fenris just as naturally pulled away.  But for once, he was too tired, too broken to fear the pain, and he fell in to her arms, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry Fenris,” She choked, smoothing his hair in an effort to avoid brushing against his marks. “I’m so sorry. I heard everything. There wasn’t anything I could do. I’m still…I’m still too weak.”

Fenris’ body felt completely limp in her arms, and in a panic she saw a river of red pulling its way in to the water from his side.  She pulled away from the embrace and saw a deep gash in his black armor. One of the Warriors had caught him before they fell.

“When does the ship get here?” Fenris murmured, his chin resting weakly on his chest. “I don’t…I need to leave here. Before Danarius…”

“Shh, don’t worry love. Danarius can’t find us here.” The cave was heavily enchanted, and it was true that Fenris’ former master could not find its location without Isabela revealing it.  However, it was also true that the ship Isabela had secured for Fenris was still at least two days away, and even then there was no possible way he would survive the journey to the Marches.  Neither one of them was going to like it, but if Fenris was going to survive, they would need to once again rely on magic.

“I need…”

“Hush now, love. You’re always so chatty. Let a girl have some peace for once.” Fenris chuckled and rolled his head in to the crook of Isabela’s neck.  Supporting his weight with one arm, Isabela reached down to grab the gauntlet she had dropped.  She gripped it tightly, and it began to pulse with light.  Too faintly.

“Now isn’t this lovely?” She said, showing the gauntlet to Fenris, who nodded weakly, despite the fact that his eyes were closed.  “Not my style, I’m afraid.  All spiky and whatnot.  But I think it would suit a certain broody elf just fine.”  Fenris’ eyes barely opened, and he looked down at the glove before casting his gaze up at Isabela and seeing the urgency in her eyes. Slowly, his hand floated through the water, and slid in to the gauntlet in her hand.  Their fingers interlocked, but Fenris’ eyes closed again, and another gush of crimson came from his wound.  _Shit._

“Alright, you idiot, you want to get out of here, you got it.  You can kill me later.”  Isabela ran her hand along the twisting veins of lyrium on Fenris’ arm, causing the glow to ignite in the wake of her fingertips.  She trailed up his body to his chin, where her thumb rested before pulling him closer.

“Just don’t go thinking I’m easy, now.”

 

When Fenris awoke, his head was pounding, and his skin felt cold and clammy.  At first, he didn’t want to open his eyes, for fear of confronting the severity of the infection that must have set in his side. But when he finally did, he saw that his wound was completely healed.  He was sitting halfway out of the water, with a crick in his neck that suggested he had been sleeping upright for quite some time. He groaned and stretched out his arms, and tried to stand up.  But within seconds he realized that his legs were paralyzed.  He looked down, expecting to see more wounds.  But the first thing he saw was a thick blanket of sea foam.  The second thing he saw caused him to punch the surface of the water with his gloved hand, sending foam flying in every direction.

“ISABELA!” He screamed.

He waited for a response. A sarcastic remark at his expense, or a full bodied laugh.  The tinkle of treasure as she rifled through the pile for the trinket that would replace him.  Or the inky curtain of beautiful hair that crested the water right before it parted to reveal her smiling face.

But all he heard was the faint pop of bubbles as the sea foam floated away from the impact he had made in the surface of the pool.  Fine then.  If Isabela wasn’t going to come to him, he would have to find her.  Any way that he could. 

With single-minded determination he plunged in to the black water, only bringing up the tip of a silver tail for a moment before it came crashing down behind him, leaving the cove cloaked in silence once again.

 


End file.
